MIA I am or was or will be

One hundred and thirty-three days.

Missing in action the past few days while trying to score seventh-grade New Jersey persuasion papers. Yeah, I see some new generation wise guys coming out of the school system up north in my home state in which I haven't lived for four decades. (Darn it, that makes me sound old.) "Hey, why don't we take our school field trip to Australia. We can brown bag it, and the entire trip will only cost $1,000. And don't worry. The animals are slow and friendly there, plus they have hospitals." This kid ever see the snake specials on Australia? Four of the top ten deadliest in the world, plus the #1. Secretly, I'm jealous. I want to go, but I'd have to mooch off of all the writer's I've met over the Internet for housing.

I was going to go into deep seculsion this holiday weekend and write until I dropped, but my social director has me lined up for other things. So many bushes to plant (don't worry Robin, your bushes are reserved on the side) and so little time to do it before the oppressive heat of summer arrives and turns the Carolinian red and gray mud into something just short of concrete. Maybe I can do some flash fiction.

The telephone pole didn't provide enough stopping power for her Nissan's engine, so she backed up and deflated the air bag with a hat pin. "Hat pin," she mummbled. "Who the heck carries hat pins anymore?" She trudged followed with the engine emitting a coughing noise. A deer jumped over the front hood with a spoon in its mouth followed closely by a raccoon without his mask. She shook her head, but it only hurt worse--the headache from the air bag took root. She weaved down the empty road until she saw the lights. "Country Kitchen. Here I come." She paused in the parking lot as the engine died four minutes after she turned the key. She glanced at the familiar cars, but didn't see Rupert's Oldsmobile. "Damn," she yelled, sinking to the ground. "I'm too late, he took off with Mabel. Oh, to be 76 and hot again.

A brown corvette pulled up with a deep growl. "Car problems?" She thought it was Omar Sharif. She patted her hair and rose from her Sunday kneeling position. "It just stopped," she said, a shy smile showed the new dentures. "Hop in," he said. She did. They roared off. "I had a date with this Mabel woman, but I guess she stood me up. How about the Radisson for the breakfast buffet. She swooned.